


Our Choices Seal Our Fate

by KatastrophicTodd



Series: Pretend Till It Doesn't Hurt [4]
Category: Batman (Comics), Batman - All Media Types, Red Hood and the Outlaws (Comics)
Genre: Depression, Family Feels, Fluff and Angst, Gen, Jason is Lady Shiva's son and Cassandra's half-brother, Mother-Son Relationship, Protective Siblings, Tiger Mom Talia, i just love talia ok? ok
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-06-29
Updated: 2020-06-29
Packaged: 2021-03-04 00:53:45
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,037
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24984886
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KatastrophicTodd/pseuds/KatastrophicTodd
Summary: “What do you want from Jason?” Talia asked, the air stuck in her lungs.“I want him to fulfill his mother’s wish,” Shiva stated. “I want him to kill me.”~ Wherein Jason is forced to make a choice.
Relationships: Cassandra Cain & Jason Todd, Dick Grayson & Jason Todd, Duke Thomas & Jason Todd, Jason Todd & Bruce Wayne, Jason Todd & Damian Wayne, Jason Todd & Sandra Woosan, Talia al Ghul & Damian Wayne, Talia al Ghul & Jason Todd, Talia al Ghul & Jason Todd & Damian Wayne
Series: Pretend Till It Doesn't Hurt [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/977115
Comments: 70
Kudos: 436





	Our Choices Seal Our Fate

**Author's Note:**

> me? writing TWO installments of this series in the same year???? who possessed me O.O
> 
> work title from "Broken Crown" by Mumford & Sons
> 
> chapter title from "Hello My Old Heart" by The Oh Hellos
> 
> not beta read

The first time Talia saw Jason Todd he was but a babe without a name. Hair as dark as his sister’s a mother’s, strong little hands and eyes that looked about inquisitively. Talia had fought a smile, then.

She remembered flashes and words of her mother, treasured throughout the years as her most valued possessions. She remembered her mother telling her once about a legend, pointing at Talia’s chest and explaining softly how one gave away parts of their heart to be hidden inside the chests of those they loved. She’d listened in awe, imagining the tiny pieces of her heart travelling around the world and living lives she wouldn’t remember.

Talia stopped believing in legends soon after her foster brother Quinlan killed her mother in front of her. Yet having Jason in her arms, she couldn’t help but feel how a part of her scarred heart made its home inside his tiny chest, secured behind a cage of tender ribs.

“Dear heart,” she’d whispered in his velvet-soft hair, the babe gurgling and grabbing her tunic in a weak fist.

Talia had been young, and still had hoped. She hoped for the babe to succeed with his mother’s strong will and Talia’s heart inside his chest. Letting him go was one of the hardest things she’d ever done, but she’d sworn over her mother’s grave that she would take Sandra’s baby away from the League. Away from Cain’s daughter.

She didn’t allow herself to know were the baby would be sent to, fearing it would tempt her enough to seek him. The child didn’t have a name, and in her memories she always though him her babe.

Talia al Ghul was not a saint. And neither, in spite of her name, was she a demon. Although most people liked to think of her in terms of the latter.

She never cared for others, only for her children. And one night, when her father had sent her to bring a report about the new Robin, something in her ribcage clenched. She saw the child, bad-mouthed and boisterous, sharp as a knife and quick to strike as a serpent.

She saw so much of her, so much of Sandra. To that date she hadn’t known the father of that babe, but it wouldn’t matter. He had the potential of Lady Shiva. And as jealous as she had been, she found herself being proud.

A sharp pain tore through her when she learned what he had gone through in his very short life, the cold stab of the sharpest knife. Gotham was never kind to children. Bruce taught him how to fight, how to let out the rage, but Talia could still see the hurt in his every move. The same she saw in the mirror.

She would never forgive herself for not stepping in when Bruce started hurting him with words. Neglecting him. She would lie awake, thinking of Damian and how he may have grown happier with a brother to take care of him. She was thinking about the possibility when Ethiopia happened.

A child living as shortly and brightly as a supernova. Leaving desolation in his parting.

ᴥ

Damian’s head was in his lap, the pencils and sketch book sprawled on his chest and moving just a tiny bit with every rise and fall. He’d fallen asleep an hour prior, but Jason only noticed once he finished the chapter of his book.

He felt a soft smile tugging at the corners of his mouth and carded his fingers through the loose curls that formed whenever Damian didn’t use product to spike his hair.

“Dick said he’s been living with you,” Duke told him from the windowsill.

He was studying for a test, but Jason had the feeling one of the others sent him to the library so he could check up on them.

“Yeah.”

“I think it did him well,” Duke nodded to the sleeping child. “He seems more at ease now.”

He turned back to his notes, obviously not expecting Jason to respond. It had been a couple of weeks since Jason moved in that rainy afternoon, and things had been rather tense.

Jason had to keep reminding himself that he didn’t owe them anything. Every time Dick looked at him with tortured eyes, every time Bruce looked at Jason like he still couldn’t believe he was back. The others understood better. Tim and Cass kept their distance, always present in case Jason felt like acknowledging them. Steph and Duke were like a breeze of fresh air, young and tough and looking at Jason like they _got it_.

Jason reached out to put away Damian’s pencils and sketchbook. He saw that his brother was sketching what looked like the views from the League of Assassins headquarters. Jason filed that information away to think on later.

“I’m sorry,” Jason said, looking at Duke.

The teen raised his head, confused.

“About that call,” Jason kept on, remembering his near-death experience back in Helsinki. “I shouldn’t have bothered you with that.”

He was so young. He didn’t deserve Jason dumping his problems on him. Duke threw his notes on the windowsill and looked at Jason with a solemn expression.

“You know what happened to my parents?” Duke asked.

Of course, Jason knew. Just another reason for that fucking clown to be dead. Jason felt some of that old rage surging.

He nodded.

“I’d rather worry than have to lose someone I care about,” Duke said, something hard in those young eyes. “So, stop apologizing, because that call saved your _life_.”

Jason had to take a couple of seconds to calm down, the sting of tears perdistent in his eyes. He could tell Duke’s words were sincere, he could always tell when people lied.

“Someone you care about?” Jason asked, just to be sure. Because he needed to be sure.

“I’m from the Narrows, remember?” Duke leaned back against the window. “I know what your work meant for the people.”

And Jason felt the air catch in his chest, because he’d _left_ them. He’d left Crime Alley because he wasn’t strong enough. All the women and children and innocent people who trusted him with their safety.

“Don’t worry,” Duke said, a soft smile on his face. “Steph and I patrol half of the Alley each. She has the Bowery.”

Jason nodded. He trusted them. Stephanie and Duke were Gotham born and raised, they knew how to talk to people and how to not be jerks.

“One of the working girls asked about you,” Duke said, almost an afterthought. “Candy.”

“How is she?” If Duke heard the rasp in Jason’s voice, he didn’t say anything.

“She told me that you need to know that Tara and her mom moved to Star City with some relatives.”

Jason remembered Tara. She was the girl that scumbag tried to rape the night he left. He was glad they got out, that they could hopefully leave Gotham behind.

“ _Good_.”

Their conversation died down then, a comfortable silence falling into the library while Duke studied and Jason read his Shakespeare play, hand still stroking distractedly Damian’s hair.

It was another hour until Dick stepped into the library, knocking first, as if that wasn’t his fucking home. Jason tensed in the couch, his hand stilling in Damian’s hair. He heard Duke greeting Dick, having a little chat about their patrol routes.

Jason had been rereading the same page when Dick finally walked towards the couch, his smile unsure and his shoulders tense. Jason closed his book with a sigh, looking up at the man who called himself his older brother. Something bittersweet in Dick’s eyes when he looked down at Damian and then up at Jason.

“I told Damian we’d go to the museum today,” Dick explained in a whisper, eyes roaming Jason’s face.

Jason hummed. Damian had told him about it the previous night when they were watching Ma’am and Alfred the cat stare at and carefully circle each other.

Jason combed Damian’s tiny curls back and softly kissed his forehead, whispering in his ear to wake him up.

“ _Habibi_ ,” Jason said.

He knew Damian woke up more peacefully if he talked to him in Arabic. Damian’s cheeks puffed up when he huffed in his sleep.

Jason couldn’t help but smile.

“ _Dick’s here to pick you up_ ,” Jason said, now in the League’s dialect.

He nudged Damian’s shoulder gently.

“ _What?_ ” Damian said, still half asleep

“ _Dick’s here._ ”

“The museum,” Damian said in English, rubbing his eyes.

“Mmm-hmm.”

Jason kept stroking his curls until he knew Damian was fully awake. The kid looked up to Dick and rolled his shoulders.

“Give me ten minutes,” Damian told him, already walking to the door.

“I’ll wait here!” Dick chirped.

Damian gave him a nod, slipping out of the library. Jason saw how Duke was sending them looks not-so-subtly.

“You’re good with him,” Dick said with a smile.

“I know.”

Dick’s smile faltered.

“You could come with,” he continued, clasping his hands at his back. “You’d probably know more about the pieces than me.”

A part of Jason wanted to go, if just so he could be with Damian and have a good time. But other part of him hurt, because Dick had never done this with him when Jason was a child. He’d grown up alone and thinking Dick hated his guts.

At first, he had admired Dick, wanted to be just like him. He soon got a reality check, however, when Dick yelled at Bruce about how Jason was no good for the Robin mantle. Jason had cried, that night, out of rage he’d told himself. But he’d just been bashed and drugged through the mud by his hero.

It didn’t help that everyone seemed to agree with Dick’s opinion of him.

“I’ll pass,” he said, something sharp in his tone.

Dick swallowed, and Jason knew he was thinking about the same night. He was so easy to read. Jason just wanted to bare his teeth and tell him to fuck off. Duke looked frantically from one to the other from his perch at the windowsill.

“We all know what you think of me,” Jason added, just to see that hurt look in Dick’s eyes.

He instantly regretted it.

Not because he cared about him, but because Jason thought he had outgrown that rage. That need to hurt instead of moving on. Jason wanted to _heal_ , not continue that cycle of hurt.

Maybe he would call Talia and meet up. She always knew what to say.

Jason closed his eyes and breathed, imagining the Kansas fields and the Kents moving around the house peacefully. All of them fitting in a constant rhythm like pieces of a puzzle, making Jason fit with them.

How strange it was to think of them being here in the Manor, where everyone had spikes that could break your skin at any moment. With just the wrong move.

He looked at Dick in the eyes, adult to adult.

“Don’t ask Dames about me,” Jason said. “Don’t put him in that position.”

Jason heard Duke taking a sharp breath. Dick just kept on looking at him, an unknown swirling emotion in his eyes. Jason knew Dick was aware of how serious this talk was.

Dick took a step back, a hunter backing away from a predator.

“You can trust me with Damian,” Dick said.

And, even though Jason wanted to fight him with teeth and nails, yelling _how can I trust you? How can I trust you with him when you broke_ me _?_ Jason knew that Dick was telling the truth. He knew Dick would tear himself apart, just like Jason would, for that kid.

“I know,” he said.

And he was sure that Dick was able to see how much Jason hated it.

ᴥ

Even after they both walked out the Manor—Damian threatening to bleach Jason’s hair if he dared to eat all of Alfred’s chocolate chip cookies—, Jason was still twitchy from his talk with Dick. He groaned, knowing he would make no progress reading, and decided he may as well train for a bit.

He had been idle enough those two weeks at the Manor, not really wanting to risk finding Dick or Bruce at the cave. But Bruce was at the office and Dick out with Damian. Jason started to brighten at the thought of using the cave’s training circuits and machines.

He tried not to think about the glass case and the plaque.

The cave was as cold as he remembered in his dreams, the chill going down his spine bringing memories of late patrols and training sessions and doing gymnastics on the parallel bars. Bruce always insisted in Jason having a fighting style as similar to Dick’s as possible. Not that it turned out the way he wanted.

Jason did some boxing exercises, his biceps burning after two weeks since he did any exercise. The tank top was already sticking to his body with all the sweat. Then he did squats holding weights, relishing the lack of intrusive thoughts. He stopped when his legs felt wobbly. He’d never really had muscle aches after he came back.

He wondered distractedly if it was because of his regeneration. Oh, well. It had to give him something good.

A shadow crossing the cave startled Jason out of his mind-numbing workout. He almost dropped the weights on his foot. He only knew one person in the Manor capable of moving like that.

“Cass?”

He heard a soft thump and then Cassandra stepped out of the shadows.

“ _Were you watching me?_ ” He signed in ASL.

He’d read somewhere that Barbara taught her sign language, that she preferred the movements to the words.

Cassandra gave him a small smile.

“ _Yes_ ,” she signed back.

Jason hummed, not really knowing how to feel about that. He frowned.

“ _Something wrong?_ ”

“ _Just curious_ ,” she shrugged.

“Curiosity killed the cat,” he huffed, going back to English.

“Satisfaction,” Cassandra smirked, completely sure that Jason would know the rest of the saying.

Jason tried to suppress a smirk to no avail. Cassandra saw far more than anyone else did. He found that, surprisingly, that didn’t make him uncomfortable.

“Want to help me?”

Cassandra nodded.

“Okay, I’m gonna do some push-ups,” he said, doing the motion. “Just sit on my back.”

Cassandra seemed amused with the whole situation and did as he instructed as soon as he was in position. She weighed more than Jason had thought.

_All muscle, I bet._

Her weight on his back felt weirdly comforting.

“And… what do you… see?” Jason asked in between push-ups.

He felt her muscles twitch against his back.

 _Hesitating_.

“You’re calmer,” she said. “Happier.”

She touched his left shoulder blade. Underneath was his heart, thundering.

“Did you mean it?” Jason asked, regretting it immediately.

Cassandra hummed in confusion.

“When you said you’d protect me,” he whispered to the floor, his own breath hitting him back in the face.

When Bruce and Cassandra had come for him, she had seen how scared he was, the panic in his every move. She’d said she would protect Jason, take care of him. He didn’t take lightly those kinds of promises, not from people he knew said the truth. And he wanted to trust her so badly. She looked just like the kind of person you’d give your heart to for safe-keeping.

A tear fell to the floor, spreading in a splatter.

He felt her shift and then a small hand carded its fingers through his damp curls, just like he’d done with Damian hours ago.

“Brother,” she said.

His arms almost gave out beneath him.

“Little brother,” she said, finality in her tone and fingers combing through his hair. “I will care for you.”

He let out a wavering breath, arms trembling. She sat up straight again. He tried not to feel sad at the loss of her gentle touch in his hair.

“Those are big words,” he told her. Because the were. For him.

“I know,” she said.

Jason couldn’t explain why, but he knew she was telling the truth. His lip wobbled in a trembling smile when he kept doing push-ups.

“Spar?” Cassandra asked.

“You’d beat my ass.”

“Yes.”

He laughed, the sound echoing against the cave walls.

“This has been enough for today,” he said. “I need a shower.”

She leaned in and sniffed a bit, then scrunched her nose.

“Yes.”

He took a shower in the cave, throwing the dirty clothes into the laundry basket. Once he was clean he fished some of the clothes he’d left in his locker for emergencies. They were a bit loose on him now. He’d lost weight.

He frowned. He guessed that’s what happened when you suffered from chronic depression unsupervised.

 _Huh_.

When he stepped out of the shower area of the cave, Cassandra was still there. She was looking at something in the batcomputer. It looked like analysis results. He walked towards her, deciding to ask her if she wanted to smuggle some of Alfred’s cookies to eat the up in the attic, where he used to hide away as a kid.

He stopped, an arm resting on the big chair’s back. And, before he figured out how to ask, he registered the information on the screen. It was _his_ analysis. The one Alfred had run when they brought him back unconscious from Waller’s compound.

“You smoked,” Cassnadra said, pointing accusingly where the analysis results read _nicotine_.

“Sometimes,” Jason said distractedly, his talk with Talia on their way to Metropolis very present.

Cassandra turned around in the chair, rising on her knees and putting her face at Jason’s level. Jason looked at her, immortality and eternity still dancing in his mind.

She squinted her eyes at him.

“No,” she said, poking his chest with her finger.

Something in him softened, being reminded of how Talia and Damian talked to him every time the saw him with a cigarette between his lips. How Alfred and Ma Kent had kindly admonished him. Cassandra’s approach was so similar yet so different.

She said she would care for him when he asked, and Jason knew she didn’t take those promises lightly either. Out of all of them, Cassandra had the worst childhood. Jason knew she understood the utter loneliness and confusion that Jason experienced sometimes. She knew pain and rage and killing, and still decided to be better each day. Just like Jason wished to be.

She’d made a promise, and now Jason would have to watch as she fulfilled it each day.

_If I love you / is that a fact or a weapon?_

That quote had been dancing around Jason’s mind for years now, every time Bruce told him in the middle of a bloody fight. Every time he said it back, like a jagged piece of glass cutting flesh.

He’d never thought something as tender as Cassandra using it to bully him out of his addiction could be associated with it. That that particular weapon could be used for good or bad.

Jason felt something stuck in his throat, Cassandra looking worriedly at him. May she really could see all emotion in just moves.

“Come,” Jason said, tugging her hand. “I was gonna steal some cookies.”

“Are you okay?” She asked.

He nodded, a warm feeling in his chest.

“I want to show you a place,” he said, tugging her hand again.

She raised her left eyebrow before following him up the stairs.

ᴥ

Talia looked out of her office balcony in LexCorp. The soft sunlight of a late afternoon played a game of chiaroscuro with the buildings’ shadows. Talia though she saw the city’s hero flying through the buildings. She’d never understand the need to be so bold, when you could do the same job stealthily from the shadows. But then again, she wasn’t invulnerable like the Kryptonian.

Immortality was another issue all together. Talia was raised to assume she’d see the rise and fall of civilizations, until everything turned to dust and she was the last one standing.

Every night she wished her children would stand with her.

She rubbed her eyes tiredly. She had spent most of her day in the laboratory and now she had to compare the results. She also had to prepare for the board meeting LexCorp would have the next day. And the updates on her children, back in Gotham, hadn’t yet arrived.

She leaned back in her stuffed chair, a black monstrosity only Lex could pick out, and watched the sun seeping into the office, a warm breeze stroking her hair. Talia tensed all over. The balcony doors had been closed seconds ago.

Talia turned around and immediately spotted the lean figure leaning into the wall lazily. The woman wore a traditional League of Shadows fighting gear, but she was one of the few that were allowed to wear red.

Talia should have expected her.

“Are you here as Lady Shiva or as Sandra?” Talia’s voice was ice in the warm Metropolis breeze.

Shiva huffed, amused, and walked towards the desk.

“Which one would make you talk, Talia?” Shiva dragged the chair in front of the desk and sprawled herself there.

There was not a wrinkle in her face. Nor in Talia’s.

“I remembered you more ceremonial,” Talia leaned forward.

Technically, Talia was still above Lady Shiva. She owed obedience to the al Ghuls.

“Not when family is involved,” Shiva raised an eyebrow. Her eyes locked in the test results spread on Talia’s desk.

Talia suppressed the need to hide them away. To shield her babe.

“Was it Lex who talked?”

“Oh, no,” Shiva made a dismissive gesture with her right hand. “The Detective and the child came to me with questions once. Just before his death.”

“You recognized him,” Talia said.

Just like she recognized the piece of her heart tucked away in that brave child.

Shiva nodded.

“I lied, of course.” She let out a soft laugh. It reminded Talia of poison poured into an innocent’s cup.

“Then why now?” Talia said, fearing the answer.

Shiva cocked her head. Talia wondered if she could see the bone-deep fear she felt for her child. She wondered if Shiva was capable of feeling such thing herself.

“Cassandra is too stubborn,” Shiva explained. “Tainted by your lover’s morals.”

“She won’t kill you,” Talia said, curious despite herself.

“Can you believe it?” Shiva asked, deep in thought. “Denying a mother her only wish.”

“Well, you did leave her with Cain.” Talia could only imagine what her childhood had been like with such a madman.

“Any child of mine could withstand that,” Shiva said, mercilessly.

Not for the first time in her life, Talia wished she could peek into Sandra’s mind and see what had gone wrong. How a mother could leave a child to the mercy of someone like Cain.

Talia regretted many things in her life, but never getting Damian out of her father’s reach. Or taking Jason in and teaching him anything he would need before sending him back into the cruel world.

The sleepless nights wondering if her children had died in a gutter because of the path they chose to follow. The ache in her bones when the resentment in Damian’s eyes hit her full force. Or imagining Jason’s disappointment when he learned just how many things she had kept from him. Talia never said she was a good mother, but she always did what she thought best for her children.

Even if it meant getting them away from her. Even if it meant lying through her teeth.

“What do you want from Jason?” Talia asked, the air stuck in her lungs.

“I want him to fulfill his mother’s wish,” Shiva stated. “I want him to kill me.”

“He doesn’t have Cassandra’s training,” Talia said. “He doesn’t know his gift.”

Talia had never been sure if the way Sandra, Carolyn and Cassandra predicted their opponent’s movements and read their bodies like and open book was a family gift. But Talia had seen a catatonic Jason fight. She’d seen what he was capable of when he relied solely on instinct.

“He’ll learn.” Shiva nodded to the papers on the desk. “He has all the time in the world.”

**Author's Note:**

> please leave a comment if you liked it! they give me life :)


End file.
